Midnight Conversations
by GeishaGirl93
Summary: The eyes are the windows of the soul; he falls in love over and over again. Batman Beyond Crossover Conner/Terry


Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice or Batman Beyond.

A/N: This was inspired after reading a slew of Orla3777's works. If you haven't read any of his/her stuff, check it out! This fanfic is going to be set in her world where Terry was also a Cadmus project and grew up alongside Superboy. If you're confused about that, go read her fics. They explain everything. Characters MAY be OOC because I haven't seen Batman Beyond in . . . woah, Netflix, here I come! Anywho, I hope you al enjoy and here I go!

Title: Midnight Conversations  
Summary: The eyes are the window to the soul; he falls in love again and again.

Xxxx

Conner is old, but how old he is not sure. Chronologically speaking, he is just a child—six-years-old; mentally, he has aged into his early twenties, everything sharper and well-defined, even the gray areas that his father tried to avoid; physically, he is still sixteen, seventeen—muscles well-defined, face angular yet softened with a drab of baby fat on his cheeks, tall for his age with his father's eyes and disposition.

"I could be as old as the moon, and you'd never know." Conner joked to his lover one night, and Terry had smiled, rolled over and cradled Conner's face in his hands.

"I would know." He said, and his smile was all impish glee.

"How?"

"Easy; you're eyes."

"My. . . eyes?"

Terry nodded; his body was warm and damp from the shower and smelled of far-away spices. His beauty was a beauty meant for moonlight and cool darkness—pale skin, startling blue eyes that turned bluer than clear skies when he was angry upset (when he aroused, they turned the color of polished sapphires and blooming cornflowers), a pink mouth slightly rough from his teeth, long elegant limbs meant for agility and speed, hair blacker than any ink or raven's wing.

_Look at me, _Conner thought as he gingerly touched a knuckle to the high slope of Terry's cheekbone, _I'm a poet._

"What about my eyes?"

Terry fell over Conner like spring water warmed by the sun yet still slightly cool. His fingers dive into Conner's clavicles and lightly scratch at the skin there. His other hand drapes over Conner's forehead, the fingers lightly plucking at the short bangs they delve in to.

"You're eyes show me everything."

"Like what?"

"When M'gann broke up with you, you were so hurt that I thought I felt my own heart breaking. I never thought heartbreak would have a color, but when I saw your eyes I knew that it did."

"What color were my eyes?"

Terry paused for a moment, brow furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he spoke. "Your eyes were the color of a summer sky that has been shrouded by storm clouds; every once in a while, a bit of blue will break through only to be swallowed up again. I saw that in your eyes."

"What about when I'm angry?" Conner asked, propping himself up on his elbows to kiss the line of Terry's neck.

Terry sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're eyes are the color of hot lightning when you're angry—whiter than any snow, tinted with silver."

Conner filled his palms with Terry's hipbones, his mouth gently leaving a wet trail down Terry's neck and on the crest of his shoulder. He bit at the skin and red blossomed like a deformed peony on Terry's shoulder.

"What about when hard as hell?"

A laugh vibrated Terry's form, and he captured Conner's face once again and steered him so that they were forehead to forehead.

"When you're ready to make love to me, your eyes are the color of midnight—a blue that's so deep, it's almost black, but there are still splashes of blue in them."

Conner hummed low in his throat as Terry dipped his head low to press his lips against Conner's. Conner's hands moved up Terry's hips, followed the ridge of his back and across the broad expanse of his shoulders. Conner traced Terry's lips with his tongue and Terry opened his mouth to let Conner's tongue snake inside. Conner traced the familiar ridges of Terry's teeth and gums. Terry inhaled a deep breath through his noise and allowed his form to meld against Conner's. When they pulled away, Terry dove back in for a quick kiss.

"And when you're happy," Terry says, his voice thick with need, "your eyes are just blue—bright, brilliant, wonderful blue. Now, make love to me."

In the dim light of the room, Terry's eyes were the color of liquid silver, and Conner jerked up and growled as he swallowed the moan that spilled over his lips.


End file.
